


Interlude at Cormallen

by IgnobleBard



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, Drama, Elf/Human Relationship(s), M/M, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-10
Updated: 2004-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/pseuds/IgnobleBard
Summary: Legolas and Aragorn celebrate victory.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 10





	Interlude at Cormallen

The mood upon the Field of Cormallen was festive indeed. Warriors from Gondor and Rohan mingled outside a host of hastily erected pavilions, drinking and swapping battle stories. Gimli was holding forth on the number of Orcs he had killed in the course of the quest, while Legolas looked on with silent amusement, for the number always increased with each telling. Though the Elf listened with seeming interest to the Men and Dwarf, his thoughts were elsewhere. Aragorn was now King of Gondor, uniter of the free peoples, and Legolas had not seen the Man for the past two days as he tended the wounded Hobbits and made ready to receive his kingship. The Elf missed his company and felt himself sadly unnecessary, like just another foot soldier of the campaign, of little use now that the task had been completed. 

There was to be a great feast upon the eve, and Frodo and Sam were to be elevated to their rightful place as heroes of great magnitude. The thought made Legolas' heart sing for the Hobbits. He had always considered Frodo and Sam brave beyond reckoning but had never had any real hope that they could reach Mount Doom alone. The fact they had done so and appeared relatively unscathed by their ordeal increased Legolas' respect of Hobbits tenfold. When he had first met the tiny creatures, he had thought them merely miniature Men, more interested in comfort than effort. Their travels together had taught him that size was no indicator of inner strength, fortitude, and bravery. 

Now, with the successful completion of the quest, Legolas realized the Fellowship was truly broken. The thought troubled him more than he was willing to admit, even to Gimli, who had become a trusted friend these past months. For he could not bear leaving Aragorn's side, though he knew, as King, Aragorn could no longer afford the pleasantries of a friendship with an unwashed Dwarf and a rustic Wood Elf. Though Aragorn was not the type of person to make such distinctions, and though he had insisted they come to his wedding to Arwen, Legolas already felt the bond between them beginning to dissolve in the wake of the sheer demands on Aragorn's time and emotional resources. 

As Gimli reached the point in the story where they had taken the Paths of the Dead, Legolas silently slipped away. The Dwarf could go on for hours when he was well in his cups and Legolas knew how the story would end anyway: with Gimli single-handedly bringing down half of Sauron's army. He wandered past the farthest pavilions, to a small clearing a short distance within the surrounding wood. It lifted his spirits to be under the trees once more, listening to the sounds of the living forest all around him, the breeze gently playing through his hair. Spring had come to Ithilien and everywhere within of the garden of Gondor there was a sense of renewed life and hope. Legolas drank in the clear air as one would a draught of fine wine, his senses intoxicated by the cool liveliness of it. 

As he stood within the clearing, he thought of all the Fellowship had been through, how, after Lothlórien, everything had changed. Merry and Pippin had been taken by Orcs, Boromir was killed in the ensuing battle while trying to protect the halflings, a hard won redemption for his earlier ring-induced attack on Frodo. Sam and Frodo had gone off on their own, no longer trusting the other members of the Fellowship to resist the power of the ring. And who could blame them after what it had done to Boromir. 

His travels with Aragorn after the breaking of the Fellowship had been pure torture. To be so near the man and unable to touch him, to want him so badly and be unable to speak it, was a daily wound to his spirit; and the Evenstar Aragorn always wore was like a ward upon the man's heart, barring his love from entry. Now that the quest was over, Legolas knew that Aragorn was lost to him forever and the thought made the garden of Gondor seem as inhospitable as the foothills of Mt. Doom. 

Thinking of Aragorn, he unconsciously sighed, and leaning back against the trunk of a large elm began softly singing the lay of Lúthien, a legendary story of love between an Elf and a mortal Man. He closed his eyes and let the sweet sadness of loss and heartache permeate his soul as he sang, feeling the deep sorrow of his loss as only an Elf could. As he reached the final verse, he opened his eyes, and his melodic voice cracked into an uncharacteristic yelp of surprise, for Aragorn was standing before him. 

The King was clad in a simple royal blue tunic and brown leggings, and Legolas' first thought upon seeing him was how strikingly well the tunic's color brought out the Man's eyes. 

"Forgive me, Legolas, I heard your song and it sounded so sad and lovely, it drew me to hear more," Aragorn said with an awkward little smile. 

"It is not often I am caught off-guard," Legolas gasped softly, "yet I did not hear your approach, you startled me." 

"Why do you sing of Lúthien?" Aragorn asked. "The song is a particular favorite of mine, but I am surprised to hear you sing it." 

"It speaks of loss," Legolas said, unable to hide the sadness in his voice. "All who have lived have felt such pain at one time or another and I suppose I was singing it because I feel such pain now." 

Aragorn moved closer and clasped Legolas' shoulder in a comforting gesture that made the Elf's heart leap within his breast. 

"What loss is it you feel, my friend? The quest was successful, the darkness has been routed, and all, it seems, is ending as it should," Aragorn said, looking into the Elf's bright eyes. 

Legolas dropped his gaze, unable to look upon the man whose favor meant so much to him; a favor he could never know, and his eyes fell upon the open collar of Aragorn's tunic. Arwen's token no longer gleamed there. He gasped and looked up quickly into Aragorn's eyes. 

"Your Evenstar, it - it is gone," he stammered in a decidedly un-elven manner. 

"Not gone, Legolas, merely safeguarded by another for a time." 

The Elf's brow furrowed in confusion, then understanding dawned upon his fair features. "Gandalf?" he asked. 

"Yes." 

"But why?" 

Aragorn removed his hand from Legolas' shoulder but his gaze did not leave the Elf. 

“Legolas,” Aragorn said carefully, “there is something I have wanted to tell you for some time. Something I could not speak of before because of the seriousness of events, and because I was unsure of my feelings on the matter, and yours. I have sought you out at the behest of Gandalf, a wise man, and one not unfamiliar with the ways of our peoples. He pointed out to me that you have been unusually melancholy and spiritless since the defeat of the Dark Lord, that any other Elf in your situation would be joining the festivities with a merry heart.” 

“I am sorry, your Highness,” Legolas said quietly, dropping his gaze again. “I did not mean for my manner to dampen your own happiness at this fair time, nor to make you think I am anything less than elated that you have attained your rightful heritage at last. My sadness comes from the knowledge that the bonds of the Fellowship are breaking and we will never all be together like this again.” 

“It is true our time together is drawing to a close," Aragorn admitted, “but it does not mean our bond is broken. We will ever be bound to each other by our trials, our memories, and our love.” 

Legolas gave a bitter little laugh, “Do Men always use the word ‘love’ so glibly?” 

“No, Legolas,” Aragorn said, placing his hand upon the Elf’s chest, over his heart, in a tender, familiar manner, “only when we mean it.” 

Legolas looked up at him again, his eyes wide with astonishment and hope. 

“Aragorn…?” 

The Man did not reply, but leaned forward and pressed his lips to the Elf’s in a gentle, searching kiss. Legolas unflinchingly responded, with a passion that surprised them both, and all the helpless yearning they had hidden from each other was shared in that one, long, timeless moment. Aragorn’s hand moved up to lace in the Elf’s unbraided hair and Legolas closed the small gap remaining between them, gently urging the man closer with a hand upon the small of his back. 

The kiss deepened slowly as their tongues twined in joyful abandon, each savoring the taste of the other, as beggars at a feast. Eventually Aragorn's lips left the Elf's in order to partake of sweeter meats, and he kissed his way down Legolas' neck, having unlaced the Elf's tunic deftly just as he arrived at his destination, the hollow of his lovely throat. Aragorn gently explored the small depression there, and Legolas made a small rumbling sound of pleasure, causing his flesh to sing against the Man's flicking tongue. 

Pressed together as they were, each could feel the arousal of the other through their leggings, but there was no shame in the feeling for either Man or Elf, only the shared thought that such constraint, while creating a certain delightful friction, was an unwelcome impediment to the pleasure of flesh on flesh. 

They parted reluctantly, panting, eyes bright, and undressed without modesty. The marble-pale Elf with his hairless chest, slender build, and lightly defined musculature. The former ranger, face and arms darkened and roughened by the sun and wind, gradually paling in places normally covered by his clothing, though still darker than the fair Elf, and of shorter, slightly thicker build, his muscles more clearly delineated, a dusting of hair upon his chest diminishing as it trailed downward. Each saluted the other with glistening, throbbing erections which they made no attempt to hide. 

Once again, they came together as of one mind, and both gave an involuntary sigh of satisfaction at the contact. They kissed again, and this time when the kiss ended, Aragorn's descent did not stop. He worked his way slowly down, his lips, teeth, and tongue grazing over smooth, cool skin, nuzzling a circle around a nipple, working inward, as Legolas writhed and arched forward to meet his hungry mouth. The Elf was perfectly content to allow Aragorn the lead in their lovemaking, he had decided long ago he would follow the man anywhere, but when Aragorn's hand slid around his cock, giving it an experimental stroke, Legolas felt his knees threaten to buckle. He moaned and held tightly to Aragorn's shoulders and the man released him at once, pulling away a little. 

He took the Elf's hand and tugged him down to lie with him upon the soft grass. Legolas fell upon his back, looking up at the late afternoon sky through the branches of the trees, trees he could hear singing a sighing song of worshipful enchantment to the creatures so joyously alive beneath them. Then Aragorn's face blocked his view of the sky as the Man took his lips once again. 

The kiss was briefer this time as Aragorn had other plans, and again he moved downward, his fingers lightly teasing and stroking the parts of the Elf's body not receiving attention from his mouth. When he reached Legolas' cock, he licked the tip slowly and the Elf cried out at the sensation. Pleased with the response, Aragorn did it again and felt the organ throb against his lips, as Legolas gave a deep, throaty moan. He slid his mouth slowly down the Elf's length, until it caught up at the back of his throat, then reversed himself, sliding slowly upward. Legolas' hands grasped his long hair, almost painfully, as he abruptly pulled off. 

The Elf's eyes were swimming with need as he looked at the Man pleadingly, "Ai, Aragorn, do not stop. Please, do not stop," he panted. 

Aragorn looked at him hesitantly as the Elf slowly regained control of himself. "What is wrong?" Legolas asked, concerned. 

"I would like to - to…" Aragorn paused again, "be inside you," he finished. His eyes held the fear that he had gone too far by making the request. But Legolas smiled at him and nodded happily. 

"Yes, Aragorn, I would like that also."

"I do not want to hurt you," the Man insisted. His look was so serious it almost amused Legolas. 

"We will need something to - ease the way," Legolas said. "Then it will not hurt." 

Aragorn's face fell. "I do not have anything," he said forlornly. 

This did make Legolas smile. "You are Elessar, the healer," he said, with a grin, "is there nothing nearby that we could use? Elves often use plants to make such things." 

Aragorn brightened immediately. "I believe I know just the thing," he said, and he rose and disappeared into the forest. 

Legolas put a hand behind his head and sang a soft verse of an Elvish love tune, tracing a slow circle around one nipple and causing a pleasant answering throb from his groin, as he watched a cloud move slowly past the branches of the tree above. Aragorn soon returned with what looked like a succulent plant of some sort and knelt beside him. 

Giving the Elf a quick kiss, he broke the thick stems, releasing a thick, oily liquid, while Legolas looked on with growing excitement, raising his legs to allow the man access. Aragorn pushed a finger slowly into the Elf's intimate portal and Legolas gasped, causing Aragorn to remove his finger at once. 

"Did I hurt you?" Aragorn said quickly. 

"No, it was just a little cooler than I expected," Legolas said, "do not worry about me." 

Aragorn tried again, adding another finger after a time, then yet another, until he hit a spot within his partner that made him cry out in pleasure. He managed to stroke the spot a few more times while simultaneously stroking the Elf's hardness, keeping him just at the edge of climax, his own member straining at the thought of what he was about to do. Finally, the Elf could take no more. 

"Please, Aragorn, I am ready, please," he moaned. 

The Man positioned himself with care and entered as carefully as his excitement would allow. Legolas stiffened and relaxed at intervals, and Aragorn would pause, and then proceed, until his cock was completely sheathed within the moaning, quivering Elf. Aragorn had never experienced anything to compare with the feeling of the beautiful creature beneath him, anticipating and responding to his every movement with an exhilarating avidity. When the Elf sensed Aragorn was reaching his peak, he began to stroke himself rapidly in time with the Man's increasingly rapid thrusts. With a final cry of unrestrained ecstasy, they came together, Legolas' seed geysering between them as Aragorn collapsed, spent, on top of him. 

They kissed again, heaving breaths and writhing tongues capping the most intense pleasure either had ever known. Then they lay, face to face, sharing the aftermath of their passion with gentle touches and loving looks. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time Aragorn pulled himself together enough to stand and gather his clothes. It was time to prepare for the feast and he could not put on his kingly raiment without cleaning up first. Legolas suggested a nearby pool and the two bathed together, the cold spring water cooling the remnants of the Man’s desire, though the cold did not affect the Elf. They made small talk throughout, pointedly avoiding what had just occurred between them. Then, Aragorn looked into Legolas' shimmering blue eyes. 

“I must go,” he said apologetically. 

“And retrieve your token from Gandalf,” Legolas added quietly, looking away. 

“Yes,” Aragorn admitted sadly. 

“I will love you ever, Aragorn," Legolas said, still unable to look at the Man, "my heart will not be ruled in this, but I understand where your own true heart lies.” 

Aragorn looked at the Elf's bowed head, long blond hair shielding his face, and he took a step toward him, wanting to comfort him but fearing if he touched the Elf again he would lose the will to leave at all. He stopped, and then turned away, back to the Field of Cormallen and his new life. Legolas raised his head and watched him move off, almost as silently as an Elf, through the trees. 

“Farewell, my beloved,” he whispered.


End file.
